


Baa Baa Black Sheep

by inexchangeforyoursoul



Category: One Piece
Genre: 99 per cent is just Caesar thinking about how bad he fucked up, Gen, the other two are barely there though fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexchangeforyoursoul/pseuds/inexchangeforyoursoul
Summary: Shops, trees, the cracks on a building, the one cobble that is missing from the walkway... at times, change doesn't come for decades.At other times, all you need is a three-hour walk down on memory lane.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started this around the time Dressrosa started aka 3 years ago, no joke. Spent some time with it about every 6 months and it was close to completion™ each time- I just kept adding details lmao. Anyway, after a last touch-up so the info is not outdated, and about 5 lines more so it can be called complete, have it as it is.
> 
> Also: I stand by my theory that there’s a One Piece island out there with literal fucking sheeple, and that Caesar and Merry come from there. (I also think they know each other, but that’s another concept entirely.) That’s about the basis of this fic. Enjoy, or so I hope.

Strolling down the street, surrounded by gazes as avoiding as if the person wasn’t there to begin with... the sensation has brought an uncomfortable kind of familiarity. You’ve gotten so tall and stand out so much that it’s more overwhelming than ever before.

Why did you leave the deck again…? Just today morning, before the Thousand Sunny even arrived at its current destination, you threw a tantrum and stated you are not going to set a single foot on the island. On a sudden whim, however, you did- and now the cold claws of anxiety are ploughing their way down to your limbs as you step on the cobbles you used to walk on as a kid. Everything is so aggravatingly the same. The bumps on the sidewalk, the river of platinum blonde and light brown heads, every single shop and their color of choice... hell, even the dustbins are in the very same spot you remembered them to be in about thirty years ago.

And so are those few deteriorating buildings hidden in the nooks and crannies of town.

A dreadful thought stops you in your tracks and forces a nervous look around - _what if you were to run into someone you know?_ You shake your head and approach a notice board. Even if someone recognized your nowadays well-known face, they’d just ignore you... yeah, that’s the most likely. Even the thickest would have enough brains to stay away from a criminal worth 300 million. The moment you soothed your nerves with that, you catch a glimpse of someone very familiar among the advertisements and newspaper cut-outs. It’s your own wanted poster that you never even saw until today, right next to the articles about the havoc the Straw Hat crew caused in Wano Kuni, Dressrosa, and so on. Always ending up under everyone’s feet... no wonder you got involved. You cannot really do anything about it, either, since the place you used to work at was blown to pieces and before you knew it, you got stuck with these weirdos sailing from one shitstorm to another. And then the stuff Joker pulled after... ehh, beats you why he did it and you’d rather not dwell on it. Never really understood his way of thinking, but he gave whatever you needed- and that was a safe spot to screw around with your experiments so you can show these... Oh. Right. You... totally forgot about that, didn’t you.

The reason that made you want to be the best of the best in the first place.

You tear the poster off the corkwood and stare at it for a while. Sticking your head up so high in your ass while climbing the ladders for a more favourable position, it completely slipped your mind. The train of thought stops as you hear a child cry out and another young voice using a word you’d never thought you’ll ever hear again. A word you never wanted to hear again.

Casting a quick look at your surroundings, you remap the town once again. Down the main street is the crazy cat woman, Green market, the old barber with those ever-so-peculiar speckled horns (what even are the chances that he’s still alive...?), the corner between the church and town hall... ah, that’s it. The other side of these buildings are the school grounds.

With a convenient gap just a step away so you could slip by without hassle or raising attention. Not as if the simple minded sheep would notice you vanishing in the first place.

Truly, it was the work of three seconds. One, lower the temperature and emerge from the ground as a formless monster straight from Hell. Second: materialize, towering over everyone- and finally...

“Boo.”

The two girls who were mocking their presumed classmate went as pale as it could get before running off- surely they will remember this day as the one where they’ve been visited by Satan himself. A tall man with long black hair and eyes flickering like brimstone... you fit the local interpretation to a t, really, and the unkempt haystack on your head doesn’t help the cause, either. Not to mention your display-tan skin. Quite frankly, any whiteflock who actually happened to look at you, be them old or young, would have shivers running down their infuriatingly superstitious spine.

“Tears won’t make it stop. Toughen up, girl.” you say while casting the last remaining person around a quick glance. The black-haired child’s also quite pale and humble-mouthed, her bright yellow eyes sparkle with fear and confusion. No wonder... She’s rubbing her scalp with both hands, hair all ruffled. The others were pulling her pigtails, eh? ‘Everything’s the same, indeed...’ you note to yourself as you dissipate.

A few more minutes of erring around get you thinking that maybe, just maybe you did more bad than good back there. That little girl is going to be avoided like the pest if the others start a rumour... and oh, are elementary school kids prone to that. Then again, that may be still better than actively shunning her. Who knows, really, each person tolerates one option better than the other. The fate of the blackflock wouldn’t change either way.

A wry smile appears on your lips. Ah, how naive that thought was to begin with. If you were truly to excel in something... like, to become the best scientist that ever was... those who have also inherited these recessive genes would never profit from your achievements. It would be you, and only you- going down in history as a mere exception, one of a kind, nothing more. And look at that: you even blew that. Now you are the poster child of hell, everything they were ever afraid of.

You hit a crossroads. To the right, a path that leads to the cemetery and a way out to the crop fields; it loops back into the main street leading back to the docks. And on the left... your street. With your favourite personal gazebo, a big oak tree towering over most buildings that, by the looks of things, was replaced by another through the years. Either that, or the memories of a twelve-year-old you were just as unreliable as any other man’s in their forties. And, somewhere after the curve, at the end of the path, three houses preceding the dead end… on the even side... was the place you called home.

Does that corner... still look the same? With the old stumpy pine tree standing across the road? The squeaky armchair at the window you sat at every day... and the crackling denden mushi in the run-down kitchen? He... probably got a promotion at long last, and she must have finally found a job... they didn’t have you holding them back anymore, after all. And you could go with the hopes that out there somewhere, a teacher, a knowledgeable person, or anyone, really, might appreciate that you are doing your best, regardless of what you look like... someone to give you the praise you’ve always thirsted for but never got from a person who wasn’t your parents.

Can’t help but wonder... did they look for you... when you disappeared without a trace? Probably... you weren’t even 13 when you ran away, after all. They were worried sick for sure... your parents loved you. This, you always knew. But it was for the best. You were just a burden, making everyone ostracize them, despite being ordinary citizens. They lost their future and all their friends because of you. They never complained, shrugged it off, but you saw... the piling bills, how people avoided them, whispered behind their backs, and all the old photos you found where they were happy with their former classmates and co-workers. Those shots were all taken in your backyard. But no one ever visited as far as you could remember. Maybe... they had another child, later. Perhaps also moved away...? Did they notice you in the news? Were they proud when you accomplished something? Were they sad and disappointed when you became wanted person? Actually, it’s been so long... are they alive... at all?

You reach for your throat and take a deep breath, trying to get rid of the lump. You don’t want to go that way, even though your feet are twitching in anticipation. Curiosity has always been your defining trait, after all. But... as much as not knowing may hurt, truth... could always be much worse. You know that well enough.

Three minutes later you can already catch a glimpse of the golden fields in the distance... seems like the cultivated terrain is a bit closer to the town than it was back then. It was always silent out there, the bugs and birds didn’t look at you funnily and the countryside was full of little things to discover. Whenever things became difficult, you liked to think about this place. Especially in the beginning... they never discovered the stowaway on any of the ships, but getting food and money while trying to get a job in the scientific field in every single town you got to was near impossible. No hard labor business needed a beanpole of a kid- too big to fit into holes in mines, too weak to carry anything else. There were no positions you were looking for, either. Sometimes it seemed so pointless. You started to question whether you had been picking all the wrong vessels. When three whole years passed by and each island seemed to be one step deeper on poverty ladder than the previous one and there was nothing to steal and to eat anymore... at that point you didn’t think... that you’d live. Think you would become an adult.

Then, one day… you boarded a ship that led you straight to a marine base. With a laboratory needing a few helping hands. You gained the ability to sublimate and manipulate air particles on the way which must have made you that much more interesting as they immediately took you in... then two months later the still young Vegapunk visited... saw something in you... and took you with him. Even though he was one of... them. The devil’s luck, out of the blue. Certainly an odd and highly improbable thing to happen.  
The old goat, huh. When you first met… he seemed so bright back then. Even enthusiastic. Somehow… you never thought about it… but he actually became real bitter and tired individual as time has passed, didn’t he. You never asked what was wrong, either- you were buried in mountains of books or busy not to screw up any task handed to you, and let me tell you... even the simplest ones couldn’t have been accomplished by anyone who was not going straight for a doctorate in that department. Must have been some kind of a miracle that you never goofed up badly during the early days. The incident on Punk Hazard… that was a completely different kind of animal altogether, though. Can’t really call something perfectly intentional “goofing up”, after all. He was fuming, man. Fuming, frustrated… and… looking back… he also looked rather… disappointed. And sad.  
The combination of words strikes you as familiar… 'Sad and disappointed.' Sad, and…

… Oh.

You stare at the graveyard entrance. Funny. A nicely decorated black wrought iron gate is sitting comfortably in an embrace of perfect, brilliant green hedges... so far, this seems to be the only thing that’s new in town. You are mildly creeped out by this fact and decide to better get going.

With a blank mind and feet instinctively leading back to the start, the next thing you realize is that you are standing in front of the brightest ship at the shore. Really… where did the never-ending ticking of processing data vanish to…? What use did this trip have, anyway? Apart from that little detour to the school yard… nothing happened. At the same time, though... you feel as if breathing has gotten easier on the way out here, making your way through the whiteflock crowds. Way easier than ever before, if you want to be honest.

You stand still in the lazy afternoon sun and listen to the nearby wood and ropes creaking, with expression and brain still empty. You remember the cemetery entrance. A sudden breeze sends shivers down your spine.

Before you can dwell deeper on it, an impudent little furball of a doctor ruins the moment by yelling at you from the railing to pull your shit together because first of all, the crew is leaving soon; and second of all, how **dare** you make an exit without telling anyone first?!

Entering grump mode you roll your eyes, yet you also cannot miss the faint worried look on his face towards the end. The tone is being the usual and unwavering, though.  
Can't help but wonder… was the reindeer concerned about you or was he fearing for the lives of those in town? Did he perhaps… notice you spacing out here? Far from being impossible- you really have been out of it for a while, after all. He also might have gotten familiar enough with the place while out as to know that your person is no welcome guest in these quarters at all. But he might as well not. It's... a safe bet either way. He might know something… he might know about some things and this fact upsets something at the very core of your being- the squirm is harder to suppress than you’d like to admit. Pity is the last thing you need, especially from an arrogant big game-wannabe. Even if mentioned someone has saved your hide during the ordeal with Big Mom and made some fascinating research regarding Zoan ability modification which you won’t deny. Actually, scratch everyone else- the pity of someone with feats like that is the last thing you'll _ever_ need.

No time for coming up with an answer, though- the captain with the entourage come in from the main street at loud volumes while running for the hills. You don’t know what might have happened, but you don’t even need to know.

‘The drill is always the same’, you state for yourself while half of the crew dashes through your volatile body as the first marines appear on the horizon. You almost believe that you can get on board by your own at first, but no… the rubber kid whips his arm back and grabs you by the neck to sling you onto the ship. You'd have some words that are uncalled for if you were not preoccupied with getting some air down your sore throat. By the time you pull yourself together, the navigator names the next destination. You come to a halt.

You know that place. You know that place too damn well. It's where most research for the government took place before Punk Hazard was a thing, and the one they use right now after its fall... the place _he_ also will be at.

This… this is actually good.

You don’t know if it will have any use at all.

You don’t have the slightest idea that there will be more familiar faces than you’d expect, either.

But it’s probably time to clear some things up in this mess that's your life.


End file.
